We had to miss a Saturday since I had the collywobbles and
this was really no day to be out on the hills, but out we
went anyway. We had five explorers, Alexander, Fern, Parker,
Roscoe and Rowan, plus five helpers, Howard, Liz, Mairi, Philippa
and Sharon and two dogs, Ellie and Hamish.
Before setting off I showed the explorers a fine growth of
a fungus in one of the Triangle beech trees, possibly a Lentinellus.
The middle of the tree was quite rotten and it looks as if
it could fall any time.
We all drove up to the forestry gate and got ourselves organised
with waterproof gear. We followed the track up to the viewpoint,
but the trees are growing fast and the view is less than it
used to be; we were able to see Langal in the rain anyway.
We had a discussion about the name Doire an Damh, and I looked
it up later: it seems to mean the grove of the stag or ox;
nowadays they pronounce it Derrydaff. There were requests
for a wafer but it was too soon and we squelched back to the
track and continued through the rain.
It seemed a long way to the big ruined house but eventually
we got there and everyone gathered round as I explained how
the people who lived there used bent timbers called crucks
to hold up the roof without the need for joists, which would
have got in the way. This house is one of very few locally
which still retain pairs of cruck slots where these timbers
were fitted into the stone wall.
Ignoring further requests for a stop we left the track and
went down the hill through a strange group of lichen-covered
birches and eventually we reached a big oak tree where we
stopped for the break.
The oak tree was the site of an unfortunate accident - an
owl nesting box had been fixed to one of the big branches
but unfortunately that was the only branch to fall, bringing
down the owl box with it. Most of the other branches were
pretty sound and soon there were explorers clambering about
in the air.
I think we could have found more oaks if we continued into
the woods but the ground was very difficult and we all came
back up to the track and continued that way.
Eventually it all became too uncomfortable to go on and we
turned back towards the gate again. At the bottom of the hill
we saw a big spruce tree which seemed to be sick, the only
live needles were right at the ends of the branches, but maybe
it was a rare kind of spruce that always grows like that,
I will have to ask an expert.
We got some fine drawings at the Blue Parrot, two of them
featuring the big oak tree: Alexander did a view of the tree
showing the weak branch with the nest box under it, and Roscoe
did a stylized representation of the tree with himself standing
next to it, a remarkable effort for a three-year old (incidentally
I watched him do it - all his own work); he did well even
to make the walk.
John
Dye
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